#he’s all high alert and volatile but also on the come down from a blinding high of adrenaline

[raytm]

I have to say that in the Gepard gave his dad the good old 1,2 shank thread that he doesn’t really have his wits about him rn. he reached capacity of what he could endure, when he snapped he wasn’t even entirely conscious of it, it was more like a flurry of violent, accumulated emotion. once he breached that threshold it was like he was in a haze, the whole process of finding sampo to help him was like wading through mud, his mind was elsewhere, his body on auto pilot. his entire world has collapsed, the way he interacts with it changing so abruptly and profoundly then on top of that ? for him to have to wrestle with the fact that he, as much as he knows sampo to be an asset in this plot he’s barely scraped together, wanted to see him, it was smth that towed him out of that haze and back to clarity, idk man he’s fucked up rn.

[jinnaidaisuke]

Why Kirk continues to be my favorite Captain

"Errand of Mercy" That's the episode with the fun Spirk scenes and the cute medieval outfits. It makes it easy for the shippers eyes to forget that there is always a point to be made in these episodes. This is the first episode the Klingons are introduced.

In "Errand of Mercy" Kirk is a mess, to put it lightly. He is just as violent, just as arrogant, just as volatile as he claims the Klingons to be.

Yes, Kirk is under a lot of stress and stress makes for unsightly behavior. He worries about his ship and his crew, which we know is always a sure way to get Kirk to lash out. He worries about Spock with him down on the planet, he worries about the Klingons and what he knows of them.

Kirk, simply put, does not like Klingons. Even Spock in his own way shows signs of not liking them.

The Klingons have a reputation, that Kirk doesn't like them isn't surprising. Think about his personal history with terror and dictators and mix that together with simple Starfleet Propaganda you get a Kirk that is on high alert, almost panic mode. He is almost blind from the anger that comes with it.

It's endlessly hilarious to me that both Kirk and Kor defend their right for war. It's ironic that both parties are suddenly of the same opinion.

All of that does not make for a great Captain. It's all the textbook criticism of Kirk in one episode, the only thing left is some random girl throwing herself at him to make it perfect.

However, there is always a point in Star Trek to be made and Kirk makes it in the end.

Spock approaches Kirk because he seemed off after they returned and Kirk does the one thing I never see any other Captain do ( at least not as easily and constantly as Kirk does, I haven't seen all there is of star trek out there) he admits to being embarrassed by his own behavior. He didn't want war and yet he was so angry at the Organian's for preventing that. He reflects and acknowledges that he was in the wrong and that he might have not been in the right state of mind (not in so many words but it's there).

Kirk constantly talks about human nature and in result is very conscious of his own behavior. He tries to be patient, he tries to be empathic, to be kind and hear people out. It doesn't always work out, how could it, he is a human fighting against the human condition.

And when it doesn't work, he apologizes. He does it constantly. He is the Captain but when he is out of line, he takes a step back and reflects. I can't stress enough how important this is to me. And how important that is to the crew. It isn't a one way relationship and that makes their respect for him even greater. Because he respects them.

We see crew members seeking comfort from their captain in times of distress (there was this lady whose fiance died and she hugged him), we see Kirk himself going out of his way to make sure his crew members are okay himself.

There are 430 crewmen on board of the Enterprise and Kirk knows each and every one of them. He is their Captain and he is responsible for every single one.

That's a huge responsibility, that's the reason he tries to be perfect even though it isn't. But in admitting that he gets closer to it than any other Captain.

Kirk will continue not liking Klingons, but he will also continue to school himself and strive for peace. And will succeed.

In being inperfect he is perfect, that's why his crew loves him. That's why I love him.

“We’re human beings with the blood of a million savage years on our hands! But we can stop it. We can admit that we’re killers . . . but we’re not going to kill today. That’s all it takes! Knowing that we’re not going to kill — today!”

[ambermurdock]

Perfect Little Girls

Had an idea for a Grown Up PPG fic. It got long, so I added in a readmore!

The girls retire from fighting crime after high school. Times have changed, and a lot of their enemies have retired, died, or are serving their time in prison. They’re ready to have their own lives. Professor Utonium supports and is proud of them.

Buttercup decides to backpack across the country. Being able to fly is super helpful for this, and she can visit her sisters whenever. Finds herself doing bouncer work, and keeping an eye out for women in danger to protect. Spent some time working at a lesbian bar, where she felt at home. She misses crime fighting the most, but not more than she misses her goody goody sisters.

Bubbles became an independent content creator, as something like a Youtuber. Lots of Story Time videos, makeup tutorials, whatever she feels like sharing. Sells comic/coloring books based on her adventures with her sisters. She thrives in the community. She makes enough to be more than comfortable, but gives a lot of her money back. She prefers to use her influence to save the day, if possible.

Blossom spends her 20s investigating several careers, decides she’s wasted on office work, lacked the capacity for stupid for running a store, and she has too much heart for politics. Not that she ever technically failed at any of it. She was good at it all but none of it was right. After spending some time with her dad in the lab, helping him with his research into Chemical X, she realized it felt... right. Like coming home, or slipping into your favorite shoes. She decided to become a scientist like her Very proud and Touched dad, and after her schooling becomes known as Dr. Blossom Utonium.

She moves back home, both to take care of her aging father and be closer to her research. He insists he’s fine but she loves him and she worries. They have a good time working together, and make some breakthroughs that required Blossoms methods and analytical mind (and sometimes tests on Buttercup.)

Over time, they begin to notice the world becoming more like their youth. Dangerous. People who would call themselves villains are working their way into notoriety. The girls childhood rival Princess is running for Mayor (a position long held by Ms. Bellum after their good friend retired) and her methods are ruthless. It’s looking like playing fair isn’t enough to ‘Re-Elect Bellum’, as the signs staked in yards all over town say. She has some ideas for prison reform that don’t benefit the right people. Blossom is worried.

She calls a family meeting. Buttercup is eager to get back into the game, though Bubbles is hesitant. She has a life now, and things at stake. Blossom assures them that wasn’t her intention for Them to return to heroism, but instead to create 3 new little girls for a changing world. Research in chemical X has advanced enough that she thinks they could even have fingers, and maybe smaller eyes.

The Professor and Bubbles are unsure. The work is dangerous, and this kind of thing hasn’t been tested intentionally. Bubbles would want these little girls to have a chance to be little girls. Buttercup is on board immediately, offering herself as their trainer. Blossom is absolutely positive that it will work. Their work life balance will be better than theirs was, knowing what they know now. They’ll have tech assistance as well. They all eventually agree that they would try it, but if it works and the girls Don’t Want to do it, they won’t be forced.

It takes some time. Hundreds of failed experiments that fortunately do not turn grotesque, calls to the fire department, and sleepless nights later, they Know they’re going to succeed. Buttercup moves back to town permanently and opens her own bar, with financial assistance from Bubbles and Mayor Bellum. Bubbles moves into a house in the neighborhood to be closer to the kids. And Blossom has been gathering ingredients.

Sugar, Spice, and everything nice are not all little girls are made of. They need compassion, creativity, and cunning. They need to be kind empathetic and open minded. They need more than powers to save the world, they need a drive. They have to care about other people.

Each of the girls contribute something of their own. Blossom donates the first chapter book she ever finished. She loved it, wore the covers down with her hands as she read it over and over through the years. The girls to have curiosity and intrigue in things around them, as well as imagination.

Bubbles makes the hard decision to contribute Octi, her favorite stuffed animal. He was a fuzzy purple octopus with a top hat when he was still new. Now he was grayed and flat and missing parts of his face. The girls need love, she figured, and Octi was as loved as he could get.

It took Buttercup a little bit to decide what to add. She didn’t keep a lot of relics from her youth, and she worried her own personality would be too volatile. She gave up the first leather jacket she bought for herself when she left townsville. Once shiny and black, it was now dull and well broken in. It also had been converted into a vest, and decorated with patches and buttons. It was her armor for her years abroad, a second skin. She never went a day without it. The girls need to be able to protect others, but also themselves.

The day comes, and it couldn’t be a better time. Mayor Bellum is again Ms. Bellum, as Princess won the election. It’s hard to say how, most of the citizens of Townsville had declared their intentions to Re-Elect Bellum. It was safe to assume there was money involved. A new villain, claiming to be the apprentice to Mojo Jojo, has begun causing trouble. Several older villains that are ‘mysteriously’ being released from prison and are getting jobs as Mayor Princess’s personal security and enforcers. They need this to work more now than ever.

This time the measurements are careful. Each of the girls treasured belongings are added, along with portions of the expected sugar, spice, and everything nice. Blossom offers for the Professor to do the honors of adding the new reformulated Chemical X, but instead he poured it for them into 3 portions to add together. With cautious excitement, they did, and before they could cover their eyes there was a blinding FLASH of light! (This, of course, is why you wear proper lab equipment.)

After their eyes recovered, and the Professor returned to a standing position, they saw the fruits of their labor, asleep in the individual pods designed for them to be born into. They looked more... traditionally human than the girls did, and a couple years older. Closer to 10 than 5. Eyes are large, but not as off putting, 8 individual fingers and toes each, a nose on each of them. Upon careful inspection, one had yellow eyes, with red hair like Blossoms, but curlier. One had orange eyes with Bubbles blonde hair, though shorter and messier. And the last had red eyes with Buttercups dark black hair, styled blunt and long. They were named Daisy, Daffodil, and Dahlia respectively.

After they gained consciousness and were given their own clothes, dresses similar to the ones the girls once wore when they were young, it was clear that the experiment had been a success. Professor Utonium was thrilled to have children in the house again. He loved his grown up girls, but something about having 3 little trouble makers jumping on the bed and asking for ‘One More Bedtime Story’ warmed his aging bones. 

None of the three of them could have children traditionally, the way they were made, and for the most part they had decided that was for the best. There were a lot of kids out there that could be adopted if they wanted families. Blossom, for one, wasn’t sure if she even wanted them. But something changed in those moments when she saw them come to life. She would do anything for them, and she knew her sisters would do the same.

Buttercup, the cool aunt, became their trainer. She taught them how to kick ass, take names, and be confident in who they are. Bubbles was the fun aunt, who as well as taking them to the mall and painting their nails (weren’t they so lucky to have them, and so long!) taught them about inequality and humanitarianism. And Blossom was mom, doing everything in between. Shepherding them to school and back between lab work, making sure they were fed and clothed.

In return the girls saved Townsville, again and again. They took to it naturally. And more than fighting monsters, they fought injustice. They protected their classmates from bullies and strangers from unjust arrests. Perhaps to the older crowd who thought crime fighters should stick to villains and monsters, they wouldn’t be as popular as the crowd pleasing original trio. But to the young folks, to the kids who grew up with Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup, who are raising their own kids with theirs, they couldn’t be more thrilled for the future.

Nothing was more exciting for them than getting that Google alert on their phones whenever a news site would announce in a title; “The Day was Saved, Thanks to the Powerpuff Girls”

[scarletraven1001]

Villainous

A Vegebul Fanfic Collab with @supersaiyanerd

Summary: Bulma is a genius, but has decided that she wants to use her brains for evil. Yet what is a Supervillain, without a bit of muscle?

Enter Vegeta, a mercenary for hire. He is tough, and frankly terrifying, and his brawn clashes with her brains in a cosmic power struggle that leaves the good guys in a real state of panic.

Never before has evil been so deliciously exciting.

Also on Ao3.

8-8-8-8-8

Chapter 1: The Supervillain’s New Henchman

8-8-8-8-8

Failure was not something that Bulma Briefs was good at.

She had never really, actually failed before, so she was rather sore about failing now.

It wasn't even as if it was a real failure, or so she liked to think, but more of a… Temporary setback.

She needed that damn medallion.

She just couldn’t get over the fact that she was not able to acquire it as quickly as she had anticipated.

She didn't like waiting. She was not used to waiting.

Bulma was a woman who had been born with everything within her reach.

Coming from a wealthy family, she had always had everything she needed, whenever she needed it, and in all the colors available.

She was beautiful. Long, silky hair, the color of a cloudless sky, with bright blue eyes and lips as pink as rose petals. She had fine, alabaster skin, perfect teeth, and a voluptuous build that had men panting after her wherever she went. Thus, it had always been easy for her to use her feminine wiles to get her way.

Most of all, she was incredibly intelligent.

She had a certified genius-level IQ and an uncanny skill for public speech.

She had been slated to run her family's company since she had learned to read and speak three languages at four years old.

She finished high school at thirteen, two Bachelor's degrees at seventeen, her Master's at nineteen and her PhD at twenty-one.

She had the world at her feet, an arguably perfect life…

And she had been bored beyond belief.

She knew that there would have been millions of women - maybe even men - who would have traded places with her in a heartbeat, but to Bulma, her life had been one tedious, never-ending cycle of being immaculately gifted and perfect, and she detested it.

She needed something different…

Something exciting.

The answer came to her one day, when she was at another one of her boring philanthropic luncheons, an esteemed guest after she had invented a state of the art method for terraforming a nearby exoplanet so that the government can use it to plant rice. A police detective had been one of the speakers, and he had spoken about the various tricks and lengths that evil masterminds would go through.

He spoke about working in tandem with West City’s superhero, the Great Saiyaman, and his son, the Great Saiyaboy.

The detective had then said one thing that forever changed Bulma’s life…

“Well, I suppose being a supervillain could be exciting, but sadly for them, they could never get away with their crimes…”

It was like he had just given her a bold dare, and Bulma realized that she wanted to see the look on his face when a supervillain managed to pull off a successful heist.

Bulma realized that what she needed, to escape the monotony of her dreary existence, was to become a supervillain.

Which led her to her current predicament.

She had been doing well as a minor villain, but Bulma was nothing if not an overachiever, and she wanted to be the most super Supervillain to have ever… Villained.

And so, she needed to make a powerful supervillain-superweapon, but to make that, she needed a supervillain-super-powersource.

She learned about a special little trinket that had just been brought to West City a few weeks ago, a small medallion from an ancient warrior race that, under the right conditions, had enough elemental energy to power the entire northern sector, and she needed it for her newest invention.

She had gone into the museum, intent on stealing it, when she was thwarted by none other than the Great Saiyaman.

What ensued, after he had decided to take the medallion back, could not even be called a struggle, since he had basically plucked the item from her hands, not even breaking a sweat as he retrieved the medallion from her thin fingers.

Bulma got to thinking… She had all the know-how, but how was she going to win when the good guys had the strength to overpower twenty Bulmas in one flick of a finger?

She needed to be stronger, but she really hated the gym, and would not be caught dead trying to do weight training…

But then again…

She didn't have to do the heavy lifting, if she could just pay someone to do it for her now, did she?

Perhaps… She can just… Hire a strongman?

Bulma quickly looked into her online network, looking for ad space.

She needed some brawn to assist her brains, and she was gonna have to start looking for the perfect thug to act as a minion.

Bulma Briefs, Supervillain Candidate, was hiring.

8-8-8-8-8

Vegeta Prince was not the type of person who enjoyed quiet. He’d grown up in war zones, on battlefields, in the purest messes of chaos, and had always risen above victorious.

So why in the HELL was no one looking to hire him?

Hours upon hours, day after day had been spent looking for work, looking for something to spare him from the mind-numbing boredom. And nothing had come up.

Maybe destroying a city or two would calm his nerves. It was something to do.

Just as he was about to get out of his chair, he heard a telltale ping!, alerting him to a job opening on a job site he was subscribed to. With his otherworldly speed, he clicked it.

 Wanted: Henchman

I am a villainess looking for some muscle, especially muscle that can take on The Great Saiyaman and his son.

 Vegeta stopped for a moment, his eyes lingering on the name. That Kakarot, walking around in spandex, defending all that is good, saving the distressed and protecting the innocent. It made him want to vomit.

 I am willing to pay a very high price for anyone who I deem worthy enough to be my henchman.

If you wish to prove yourself to me, send me an email at bulmagoesbad@briefs2.com for a pre-registration.

Go to the highest peak of the West Mountains on Monday at 8:00am.

The rest will be up to me.

 Vegeta pondered for a moment. Whoever had written this, they were clearly new. Inexperienced, maybe even some pathetic weakling who did it for some tragic reason.

But on the other hand, it was a job. And that was exactly what he was looking for.

And a chance to beat Kakarot and his brat into the dirt? It appeared the pros far outweighed the cons.

Cracking his knuckles, Vegeta Prince grinned, knowing business was good once again.

8-8-8-8-8

“I am Spike the Devilman!” cried the man in the strange blue suit as he stood with arms akimbo, a pose meant to be menacing. He had large, webbed wings and a pair of huge green horns, with large pointed teeth and pinkish claws.

He looked like a bat. Not a devil.

Bulma wanted to roll her eyes, but refrained.

Just because she was a supervillain now, didn't mean she could be rude.

“I can fly!” he said, lifting off on his thin wings, before brandishing a pitchfork that Bulma hadn't even seen on him before.

“I can use this weapon for combat! Watch me!”

He then proceeded to do aerial acrobatics that had Bulma finally give in to the urge to roll her eyes, before she turned back to her pre-registration list.

She groaned.

She had spent the entire day with not a single ideal candidate in sight. And batdevil here, was the last man on the list.

The most promising one had been an android who reminded her of the typical portrayal of Frankenstein’s monster. He had been strong and had the terrifying bad-guy henchman looks, but it all fell apart during the interview, when she realized that he was more harmless than a three-day old puppy.

This was hopeless.

She let the last candidate fly around a bit more, before she finally called him down.

“Um,” she began when he looked at her expectantly.

“You are on the shortlist!” she lied, crossing her fingers behind her back. “I will call you back.”

The man beamed, before he gave her a short salute, and flew off.

She sighed.

What a waste of a day. Perhaps she could set up another screening schedule.

She was about to get up to place the small table, chair and umbrella set that she was sitting on back into her storage capsule, when she heard a loud, indistinct rumble go off in the sky.

She stood up, turning her head to look for the strange sound, when a very small but sudden, concentrated explosion a little to her right made her jump, a terrified squeak leaving her lips.

“What the hell?” she screamed, spinning to face the direction from which the unexpected attack came from.

There was absolutely nothing there.

She scrambled to encapsulate her things, sticking the tiny containment unit into her pocket before she turned once again to survey the sky.

She pulled a small laser gun out of her utility belt, pushing the folds of her white lab coat back so she can crouch slightly, gun at the ready.

Her heart was beating a mile a minute, and while she was scared, she realized that this, this, was exactly what she wanted, why she decided to become a supervillain. This rush, the adrenaline and danger…

Whoever had attacked her, was taking his or her sweet time.

“Who the hell are you? Show yourself!” she called out.

An answering blast of light came from her left, and she responded with a few blind shots of her laser gun.

She realized belatedly that she really should have brought more defenses and weapons, but dammit, she was new at this.

It wasn't like she got a full job orientation.

The ground started to shake, and she stood stunned as she realized that the entire mountain range was now pulsing with violent energy, emanating from a spot just a few meters away from her. It was concealed by a small hill, but Bulma could see dangerous flames of purple ki leaking out from the sides, and she realized that whoever, whatever this attacker was… Was extremely volatile.

She shot at the small hill, willing the attacker to appear, but even after the small hill had been decimated by the blasts, the attacker remained hidden.

She saw a flash of movement, and she straightened as she understood that her attacker was now on the move.

She tried to follow the streaks of blue with her eyes, despairing as she realized that the attacker was just too fast.

She felt a gust of wind blow through her, and she held her gun to her chest, noting with apprehension that the attacker was drawing nearer.

Another flash of blue appeared to her right, and she spun, lifting her gun to fire, only to feel a powerful tug at her wrist, a second before she stared in horror at her now empty hands.

The attacker had taken her weapon.

Eyes wide, Bulma scrambled to try to run away, but before she could even deign to move, she felt a powerful cage of limbs wrap around her, trapping her frail arms close to her torso, holding her immobile against a hard, unyielding body.

“Let me go!” she screamed, lifting both legs up to try to force her captor to lose balance, but the being remained firm, lowering a malicious head to breathe harshly against the back of her neck.

She saw a thick shock of spiked dark hair from the corner of her eyes, a moment before she heard a deep voice growl into her ear.

“I am here for the henchman vacancy. Please, pardon my tardiness.”

The arms unlocked from around her, and she scrambled away, falling painfully onto her hands and knees, before she turned around, sitting on the ground as she stared up at the man.

She brought scared but indignant eyes up to meet an intense gaze, blacker than the darkest night and sharper than a warrior's blade.

The dark hair she had glimpsed before stood in a riotous flame-like wave, drawing down into a severe widow's peak that slashed over a stoic face with thin, stern lips and an angular jaw.

She noted that he wasn’t too tall, but his body looked hard enough that it could have been sculpted from stone, with firmly defined muscles and thick arms covered in light caramel skin.

He was wearing a blue tank top, tucked into a pair of the tightest pants she had ever seen, showcasing powerful thighs and leg muscles that clearly explained how he could have moved so damn fast.

He was impatiently tapping his gold-tipped white boots on the hard ground as he stared at her impassively, watching her marvel over his form.

“If you are quite done drooling over me, I suggest we begin your screening methods so you can hire me,” he said, voice arrogantly loud, shocking Bulma into alertness.

“Excuse me, who are you?” she asked irritably, getting up to go toe to toe against the frankly terrifying man. “You're not on my list of applicants.”

“I did not bother sending an email since I knew I would be the best that you can find,” he smirked at her, raising a brow as his lips formed a mocking smirk. “Am I incorrect?”

She sputtered, unable to deny it.

Deciding not to even dignify him with a response, she crossed her arms, huffing.

“Well, could you at least tell me your name first so we could get on with the interview?” she asked, staring up and down at his very impressive physique.

He leaned his weight on his right leg, cockily crossing his arms across his chest, and Bulma could have sworn that the smug bastard flexed his biceps as he moved.

He puffed up his chest, and with a low, raspy voice that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, he growled.

“My name is Vegeta Prince, and I will be your new strongman. Let me see whatever trial you have in store for me, and I guarantee, I will complete it.”

8-8-8-8-8

Vegeta looked curiously at the woman who could potentially become his employer.

To say that he had been surprised upon seeing her would have been a monumental understatement.

He had no idea, that the person posting that stupidly simplistic ad was, in fact, an incredibly beautiful woman.

He had been expecting a jaded old lady or a large, monstrous female who wanted world domination as revenge for a terrible life.

However, when he saw her atop that mountain, glaring dejectedly at her increasingly ridiculous applicants, he couldn't help but be intrigued at why such a good-looking person would decide to pursue the life of a villain.

Well… As if he should talk. He was pretty damn striking, if he did say so himself.

Woe betide anyone who dared to disagree.

Yet, he had his reasons. Vegeta was born to be destructive, his powers were literally all about destroying things and he did not have a well-meaning bone in his entire body.

This woman though… she was rather soft-looking, with pinkish white skin and baby blue hair that screamed innocence, and yet here she was, on the lookout for an evil henchman. He watched, interested, as the woman politely dismissed the last of the morons who had come for the job vacancy, and he cracked his knuckles as he decided to show off a bit, as his method of introducing himself.

It had worked very well.

The woman was definitely interested, if the darkening flush on her cheeks and the hastening beating of her heart was any indication.

“This job is mine,” he thought smugly as he stated his name, and the woman defiantly stared back at him, raising her chin as she stood up to full height.

“Well Vegeta,” she said. “My request is simple. Show me what you’ve got.”

He grinned, a wide and feral smile that showed off the sharp edges of his teeth.

“Well then,” he growled. “Get ready to be truly blown away. I assure you, I am not like anything you have ever seen before.”

“Well, then, dazzle me,” she dared. “I just had all the other applicants show me their powers. Come on, let's see what you're capable of, homeboy.”

He hooked one arm under her armpits, and the other under her knees. He smirked at her pink-stained face, shifting his weight from one leg to another, before he, without warning, shot into the sky.

He smirked snidely at the terrified screams that his sudden action wrenched from the woman’s surprisingly foul mouth, and his smirk turned into a full-on grin as the blue-haired woman gradually ceased her yelling, as she realized with blatant fascination how high they had actually flown.

“You can fucking fly!” Her eyes went wide with awe. “Not one of the other applicants could do that. I mean, the guy before you could, but it was with wings, and he wasn’t this fast. You… You can actually fly. No wings or gadgets or anything!”

He grinned. “If you think that's impressive, watch this,” and without a single hint or warning, he let her go.

He listened to her scream as she fell. He looked between her and the distance from the ground.

500 feet.

400 feet.

300.

200.

100.

Once she hit 50 feet, he shot down, and easily scooped her into his arms once again.

She was shaking.

Honestly, he knew she could have handled it.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck.” She looked at him, her cheeks flushed red, but now from rage.

“You said you wanted to see what I could do.”

“I didn't mean dropping me from 600 feet in the air, asshole!!!”

He watched her shake, and slowly, her body went still. Her eyes met his once again. “While that was a dick move, I will admit that was impressive. Your speed is phenomenal, and you do appear to be able to control your flight quite well. I guess you can show off a little more.”

He grinned, and she sighed. “And by that, I mean you can show off without trying to make my body hit the ground at terminal velocity.”

He soared back into the clouds, spinning around, doing loop-de-loops, watching her face light up. Oh, he surely had this in the bag.

At one point, he flipped his body upside down, holding her only by her wrists. She screeched, but he assured her he wasn't going to drop her this time. Her feet sliced through the clouds, and he could hear her laughter at the sight.

He touched down onto the ground, and watched her stumble as her frail body started to become used to being on solid ground once more.

“Oh wow!” she cried. “That was amazing! That was tons better than a roller coaster!”

He smirked. “Of course! I could fly ten times the speed of the fastest carnival rides. The speed I showed you just now was nothing.”

“Well,” she answered, her flushed, happy face seemingly lighting up the gradually darkening sky. “If you’ve still got more of that in you, how about you take me back to my lab?”

He raised his brows. “Why woman… We’ve only just met. Isn't it rather early to invite me back to your place?”

Her face flushed another interesting shade of red, and she stomped one foot on the ground, drawing a laugh from within his chest.

“First of all, you asshole,” she said through gritted teeth, “my name is Bulma. Bulma Briefs. And secondly, I need you back in the lab so we can perform a strength screening!”

He held a hand out, and the woman gladly took it. He used that hand to pull her up to him until he had her small body in his arms, before he lifted off, going straight up into the sky.

“In which direction?” he asked.

“It's in the very center of West City, Capsule Tower 3,” she answered, and he nodded, taking off.

However, something seemed strange about that location…

“Is that not a very visible area? Why would you put your lair in the center of the city?” he asked confusedly, peering down at the woman in his arms.

“Well, it’s my building. I figured, why not use it as my evil lab?”

He snorted. “Gutsy. Dumb, but gutsy.”

They flew the rest of the way in silence, until he finally saw the top of the tall tower, blinking up at him through the clouds of the early evening sky.

He landed on the helicopter helipad, placing the woman down on her feet.

“Follow me,” she instructed cooly, leading him to a small elevator near the edge of the wide rooftop.

The elevator hummed an infuriating tune as they descended, before it finally stopped, opening up into an expansive space with extremely high ceilings, filled with inexplicable little gadgets and complex machinery.

“Vegeta,” she said, turning to him as she stood at the entrance. “Welcome to my laboratory!”  

He looked around. Metal was scattered everywhere, blueprints were strewn all over the walls in favor of wallpaper, and a large computer covered one wall.

Various unidentifiable gadgets filled the large area, interspersed with what appeared to be advanc3d robotics and a large tank full of green liquid.

He had to admit, it was impressive.

“And what exactly are we doing here?” He stared at his future employer, her eyes glowing in the light of her super-computer.

“Oh, right! The strength screening!” She ran off, and he sat there for 1 minute, then 5, then 10, and finally, after about 20 minutes, she ran back in, holding 3 spheres.

“Here you go!” She grinned at him. He raised a black eyebrow.

“And you brought these, why?”

“Well, each one is made of a different alloy. This first one,” She held up the one at the far left. “Is a pure steel alloy. Each alloy is stronger than the last. You see, the Great Saiyaman has extraordinary strength, and you'll need to be on par with him if I'm to steal the medallion I need. So what I want you to do,” She gave him the sphere she was holding. “Is crush each and every one of these.”

He looked at her, then at the spheres, then back at her. “You didn't have any of the other candidates try this.”

She shrugged. “You are able to fly, and the blasts you fired at me had quite a bit of punch to them. So, I'm sure crushing these things will be no challenge.”

He looked at the sphere in his hand, and crushed it as though it were merely paper. “Like that?”

Her blue eyes widened. “Exactly. Damn, when I said crush it, I did not expect this. You literally turned it into a pancake.”

He smirked, and took the next one, and crushed it like the last, again showing no problem flattening it.

“You just crushed solid titanium. Basically the hardest metal on the planet. Ok. Wow. Well,” She held up the last sphere, smirking. “This is made of some of the hardest metals on the planet, and some from meteors, don't ask, in order to create what is theoretically the hardest metal to exist. I’d like to see you crush this.”

He took it from her hand, and tried to crush it like the others, but found it was harder than the last two. He had to admit, the woman had brains, because he had never found anything he couldn't crush with ease. He gripped harder, harder, and finally, the sphere gave. The blue eyed woman smirked, a victorious grin on her face. “That is definitely strength that will give the Great Saiyaman a run for his money.”

He smirked, “Woman, this is the strength that can crush Saiyaman and his insipid excuse of an offspring.”

“Confident, aren't ya?” she asked, an eyebrow raised in appraisal.

His smirk just widened further. “I am fully aware of my own capabilities.”

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma looked thoughtfully at Vegeta as she realized that he, in all his cocky, evidently overbearing glory, was undoubtedly the man that she needed for the job.

He was brilliant.

He was absolutely perfect.

His skills, his power, and that amazing strength… it was what she needed to defeat the Great Saiyaman.

He was also rather infuriating, but she was damn sure that she could live with that.

Putting up with the attitude would be worth it.

“Alright, Vegeta,” she said straightening to her full height. “I can see now that you really are the best man for this job. I wish to offer you a job as my official Henchman.”

He smirked, bringing his fists together and cracking his knuckles in glee.

“Good,” he said. “I am looking forward to it. Now… About the compensation…”

Bulma, stopped him by pulling out a small square of paper from her pocket, and she pushed it up to his face so he can see the salary that she was offering.

He whistled. “Not bad.”

“So you accept?”

“Looks fine to me.”

“Great!” she beamed, before she turned around, heading for a large table at a corner of the lab.

She sat down on the large office chair, and motioned at one of the cushy, small couches in front of her table.

“Take a seat, please? I’m just printing out your job offer, which I already arranged this morning. Just need to fill your name in,” she said, typing down on her keyboard as she squinted at the screen.

She pulled the job offer sheet out of the printer and held it out to Vegeta, who took the paper from her with a look of apprehension.

She went and entered his name into another document that she also printed, and handed to Vegeta as soon as he was done reading and signing the offer sheet.

His brown rose as he looked at what she was holding out to him.

“What on Earth is that?” he asked.

Bulma blinked. “Your employment contract.”

Vegeta’s eyes were wide in disbelief. “You… you want me to sign an actual, legal, employment contract?”

She cringed slightly at his question. “Duh! Of course! I may be a Supervillain, but I still need to follow labor laws. I would hate to get on the workers’ union’s bad side, you know?”

“I suppose,” he muttered, looking over the document, before pausing at a particular clause.

“Wait,” he said. “This part… Does this mean I get overtime pay?”

“And health insurance! With dental!” she beamed.

Vegeta shrugged, and after a few minutes, he laid the paper down on her table so he could sign it.

Bulma smiled. “So hey, I’d hate to rush you, but can you start on Wednesday?” she asked, giddy.

The tough, terrifying man blinked openly at her. “Today is Monday.”

“I know.”

He shook his head with a chuckle, before he answered. “What the hell. Sure.”

“Great!” Bulma said, extending a hand to Vegeta. “I look forward to working with you, Vegeta-san.”

He smirked, before he took her hand, and shook it with a firm, nearly arrogant grip.

“As do I, Bulma-san.”

8-8-8-8-8

To be continued…